It’s raining and I’m sitting by the open balcony window. I’m wearing long jeans and my feet are cold. I somehow like this weather. It fits how I feel inside right now. And I like the sound of raindrops hitting the windows and the roof of my apartment. But hey it’s August! This summer has been so weird. Colder. So much rain. Rarely seen a clear blue sky. I crave summer nights, those nights you dream of on grey winter days, nights spend in shorts and shirt, strolling through the streets, sharing stories and laughs. And I crave someone to share them with.
I don’t even know where to start. But I started, so I guess that is a good thing?
I’ve been struggling. In December my uncle died and it really hit me. Not just the pain of losing a loved one but also the things that came with it, stuff from the past that was brought to the surface, the images at the funeral, my grannies pain, the recurring feeling of loss that seems to be a major motif in my life. Since then I’ve been in a downwards spiral up until 2 weeks ago, when I felt like hitting rock bottom. I really forced myself to change a few things, I reorganized my apartment (which helped so much!), had amazing support from my family and focused on good habits. So I was doing better for a few days, flew to L.A., had one of the most beautiful weekends of my life – and I really mean that -, came back home and had a successful model job in Hamburg. The following weeks look great, my bestie Melina is coming on Friday, I am excited to finish my uni essays, attend a few events and work.
But yesterday marked a new low point of my depression. I have been dealing with mental health issues for years now. I know why. And sometimes I manage my life beautifully in spite of it.